


A Matter of Trust

by arthurmorgan-s-heart (Silverblind)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Reader, Jealousy, Naked Female Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/arthurmorgan-s-heart
Summary: It’s a job like any other - just a way to make a quick buck or two. Then why is Arthur feeling this way?
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117





	A Matter of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request fill from my tumblr blog. Uploaded here for convenience - find me on tumblr - arthurmorgan-s-heart
> 
> Original request text: "Yay, requests are open! ❣️ Id love some jealous Arthur with fem reader turning into NSFW!"

Arthur knows he shouldn’t be jealous.

He’d seen it all before, dozens of times - you, flirting with the mark the both of you had picked out in the crowded saloon, laughing and smiling as you touch a stranger’s hand, his arm, his shoulder, just as you’re supposed to, lulling him into a false sense of security until an opportunity arises to rob him blind.

It’s a show, of course, a ploy; you’ll come back to him, as you always do, as you had said you always would, as Arthur  _ knows _ you always will - and yet, even as those thoughts linger in his mind, tonight, he simply can’t bear to see you do this. 

However, as much as he wants to walk over to you and pull you away from the man, as much as he wants to kiss you senseless and remind the whole world that you’re  _ his _ , he knows it would put you in danger, draw too much attention; so he grits his teeth, sits, and waits.

He only stands when he sees you pull the man toward a shadowed corner of the saloon to get away from prying eyes, and he shoulders his way through the crowd as he follows you from a distance, ready to jump in should things turn sour. No one pays you any mind, assuming you to be just another working girl. The man is so drunk that he can barely stand, holding himself up with one hand against the wall as you press yourself against him in a way that makes Arthur’s blood burn. Your hand slips into the man’s pockets as he paws at you clumsily, nimbly relieving him of his valuables and tucking them away in your own clothes before you step away from him, promising to come back with another drink - you won’t, of course, but by the time he realises it, you’ll both be gone. Your eyes sweep over the crowd, looking for Arthur, giving him a slight nod from afar when you find him. He answers in kind - you’ll meet him at the hotel later, just as you’d planned. He stands in place for a moment as he watches you slip away, before his gaze shifts to the man you’d just robbed as he stumbles his way to the nearest chair, letting himself fall into it in a heap. Despite the man’s pathetic state, Arthur can’t help the white hot rage that leaps to life inside him when he looks at him, and he turns away before it can get the better of him, crossing the room in long strides before stepping out of the saloon and making his way to the hotel across the street. He ignores the clerk’s greeting as he steps inside, quickly climbing the stairs to the room he’d rented earlier in the night, throwing the door open and stepping inside before slamming it shut behind his back. He sighs loudly, leaning with his back against the door for a moment before stepping further into the room and letting himself fall into the armchair tucked away in a corner, trying to reason with himself. He had seen you do this many times over the years, too many to count - the smiling, the flirting, all things that had never truly bothered him -, and never before had it made him feel so unnerved, so irritated -  _ jealous _ .

Simply thinking the word is enough for him to scoff at himself. He  _ trusts _ you - more than John, more than Hosea, even Dutch - and he’s not even sure what’s making him feel this way now - is it seeing you with another man, no matter how much of a lie it might be? Or is it seeing someone else touch you in a way that only himself should? He shakes his head, sighing again as he takes off his hat, putting it on the small side table next to his chair as he runs his fingers through his hair and wills himself calm while he waits for you.

A few minutes trickle by before he hears footsteps outside his door, followed by knocking - the three short, irregular raps you always used to announce your presence. You let yourself into the room without waiting for an answer, reaching for the pins holding your hair up as soon as the door closes behind you, shaking it free with a breath of relief before looking at him. You smile, and he feels his mind settle some, watching as you put your hairpins away before coming to sit on the arm of his chair. You pull a pocket watch, a silver ring and a small coin purse from the folds of your skirt, dangling them in front of his eyes for a moment before you put them down next to his hat.

“How’d I do?” you ask lightly, taking his hand and pulling it into your lap. You gently stroke his wrist with the tip of your fingers, and a memory of you doing the same to the other man earlier flashes behind his eyes, lighting the flame of his jealousy anew -  _ no _ , he tells himself.  _ Enough _ .

“Good,” he answers, perhaps a few seconds too late and with more tension in his voice than there should have been. He sees you frown slightly out of the corner of his eye, one hand gripping his tighter while the other reaches for his face, cradling his cheek to try and make him look at you, but he tenses, refusing to go along with your motion.

“You alright, Arthur?” you ask quietly, trying to meet his eyes, though he keeps them obstinately trained on the floor.

“Yes,” he answers, too quickly this time, and you sigh, your hand leaving his cheek while you weave your fingers through his with the other.

“Arthur…” you say warningly, but with enough concern not to sound chastising. He still doesn’t dare look at you, lest you see what he’s really feeling - and resent him for it.

He feels your hand on his cheek again, and this time he doesn’t resist when you make him look up to meet your gaze. He doesn’t dare breathe for a few moments as you search his eyes, ready for you to laugh, or scoff, but you say nothing, your frown slowly fading as your eyes soften, and you smile, gently, tenderly, before leaning forward and laying a light, chaste kiss against his lips.

“I’m yours, Arthur,” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his, and he feels his restlessness slowly melt away, even as your words wake something else inside him, a primal urge that has electricity spreading through him in an inescapable wave. "Only yours."

_ Mine _ .

His free hand rises to cradle the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair as he draws back slightly, meeting your eyes for half a heartbeat before leaning in to kiss you - forcefully, unyieldingly, almost harshly, swallowing your surprised gasp as he frees his hand from yours so he can draw you into his lap with an arm around your waist, pressing you against him as he kisses you, the hand in your hair slowly gliding down to your neck and all along the line of your spine, reclaiming every inch of you that the other had touched. He feels you grip his shoulders after a few moments, your initial surprise quickly forgotten as you open your mouth for him, kissing him back just as fiercely.

_ Yours _ .

His hand stops at your hip, gripping tight for a moment before it moves to your thigh, bunching in the fabric of your skirt as his lips move away from your mouth to brush down your neck, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses to your skin that make you shiver. Your hand moves from his shoulder to find the back of his head, your fingers weaving through his hair as you bask in the feeling of his lips, his tongue, his breath, every touch sparking wave after wave of electric heat that spread from your stomach to the rest of your body. 

"Up," he growls against the hollow of your throat, a few seconds passing by before your hazy mind registers the word, and you feel his arm loosening from around you as he allows you to stand - he follows you, immediately drawing you back into his arms as soon as he's standing, as if reluctant to be away from you for even a second. One hand threads through your hair again, bringing your face back to his to allow him to kiss you, before gliding down to the buttons of your shirt, both hands now working on getting them undone, which he does quicker than you would have thought possible. You shrug the garment off without prompting as soon as it falls open, earning yourself an approving hum as his hands find your shoulders, burning like hot coals through the thin cloth of your chemise as they roam down to your breasts, lingering there for a moment before lowering to your waist, and then, finally, to your hips, pulling you flush against him again as he slowly kisses and nips his way down the side of your neck. You let out a shuddering breath when you feel his hips grind into yours, your hands tightening their grip on his shoulders as sharp points of pleasure run up your spine with every touch of his lips. You feel him start working at your skirt, and in a few seconds it falls to the floor, pooling around your feet, and you take it upon yourself to slip off your undergarments - they quickly join your other clothes on the wooden floor, a deep groan ripping from his throat as he feels the bare skin of your thighs beneath his palms. He parts from you as he grips the hem of your chemise, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he impatiently pulls it up and over your head - it was barely more than a second, but it was more than enough for you to see the smoldering heat flashing behind his eyes, a heat that seems to spring into a roaring pyre as you feel his eyes rake over you when you're finally bare before him; you watch him throw your chemise aside as he devours you with his gaze, tendrils of fire slowly spreading over your skin wherever his eyes linger - and when they finally meet yours again, you feel as if you're about to burst into flames.

He kisses you again when he pulls you back into his arms - greedily, demandingly, though he knows that everything you're giving him now already belongs to him. He pushes you back a few steps, toward the bed, and you let yourself fall back on the mattress as soon as you feel it at the back of your thighs, pushing yourself back until your head is resting on a pillow. He quickly climbs on top of you, barely allowing you time to breathe before his mouth is on yours again, holding himself up with one hand next to your head while the other comes to cradles your cheek, his shirt and pants rough against your bare skin. You snake your hands down between the two of you to find his belt, intent on starting to undress him, but his hand snaps down to one of yours, gripping tight, stopping you before you can even begin. He pulls away, just enough to meet your eyes, and you feel him lace his fingers through yours as he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles gently, almost imploringly.  _ Let me take care of you.  _ You can't help a questioning look, but when he lets go of your hand to bring his back down to where yours was a moment before, hovering just a few inches away from where you want him most, you decide it doesn't matter. You bring your other hand back up as well, one gripping his shoulder while the other twines through his hair.

_ I trust you. _

He bends his head, trailing his lips down from your jaw to the curve of your shoulder as his fingers linger against the soft skin of your thighs, tantalizingly close to the pulsing point of heat between your legs, and you almost think he might tease you, make you wait - but then his fingers press against your center, the delicious pressure making you arch your back slightly as he wrenches a quiet, almost surprised moan from you, and you've never been so glad to be wrong.

He starts slowly, even though you can feel his impatience in the kisses he tracks over the lines of your collarbones - and yet, his touch is even, measured, tracing wide circles around your center that don't quite feel the way you would want them to, and you angle your hips up in a wordless plea, choking out a quiet whimper when his hand leaves you, until you feel his palm splaying over your lower stomach, pushing you back down to the mattress as he looks up at you, eyes dark.

_ Be still. _

You swallow the whine that had started to climb out of your throat, nodding, and a few seconds trickle by before you feel his hand on you again. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself still with every ounce of your rapidly fraying self-control, letting out a shuddering breath as his lips return to the skin of your chest, trailing fire in his wake as he kisses his way down to your breasts. He lingers, his warm breath making you shiver as he traces the curve of one breast with his lips before catching your nipple. His tongue darts out, and you feel the warmth of his mouth as he lays licks and kisses against the sensitive bud, slowly unraveling you with his mouth and fingers, effortlessly wrenching moan after breathless moan from you. Despite his earlier warning, you arch your back, begging for  _ more _ , and you're so close, so  _ close _ , the telltale shiver running up your spine as you feel yourself tighten and -

You almost sob when his hand pulls away from your core to grip your thigh, his mouth leaving your nipple to kiss your ribs instead, and you force your eyes open, craning your neck to look down and meet his gaze - his eyes are dark and commanding, his message clear.

_ Not yet. _

You open your mouth to speak, to plead, to  _ beg, _ but you feel his hand squeeze your thigh, just hard enough for your breath to catch in your throat, and you let your head fall back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut again. He rewards you with a gentle touch of his fingers to your inner thigh, brushing up and down, up and down, coming teasingly close to your center and yet never touching. You feel him start to kiss his way down your body again - your ribs, your stomach, your hips - as he rearranges himself; you feel him shift himself down, the hand he had kept next to your head to hold himself up sliding down to splay over your chest as he lays down before you, and you can't help a breathless sigh when his warm breath fans over the apex of your thighs, feeling something coil inside you in anticipation. He pushes your legs further apart with one hand, kissing the inside of your knee before guiding them over his shoulders, anchoring you against him. He hooks one arm around one of your thighs, placing his palm on your stomach, wide and warm, and, finally, you feel him, a wave of relief washing over you as the first few careful strokes of his tongue relieve some of the pressure that had been gathering low in your belly. You can't help a shuddering moan, lifting your hips to his mouth, and he growls against you, pushing you back down again, though he doesn't stop this time - you dimly wonder if he even wants to. The hand on your chest slowly smoothes down, cupping one breast for a few seconds before shifting lower still, until he finds the dip of your waist, gripping tight to keep you against him as heat bolts through you with every measured swipe of his tongue.

You know he could make you fall apart in mere moments if he wanted to - yet he lets you linger at the edge of your pleasure, seemingly always pulling you back at the last second, only to rile you up again, over and over, until you reach down to thread your fingers through his hair, pulling slightly, and he groans deeply, seemingly too focused on his task to care about your transgression. You're almost there again, and you try and choke out a desperate plea - you can only manage a thin moan, and he still doesn't seem inclined to allow you your release; his touch becomes lighter, the pressure of his tongue not quite what it should be, and your pleasure flickers and starts to wane, just as it had before. But you try again, fighting through the fevered haze that constricts your thoughts, willing a single word out of your throat, loud and urgent and desperate, feeling as if you might just go mad if he doesn't take pity on you.

"Ar - Arth - Please - !"

For a moment, you think he might not have heard you, or that he had decided to torture you a bit more, but then he touches you in the way he knows you need, and it only takes a few more seconds for you fall apart with a loud whimper, his mouth coaxing you through your pleasure and beyond, until you can't take any more, only parting from you when you whine and pull on his hair,  _ hard _ ; only then does he pull away, and you stay like this a few moments more, trying to catch your breath - you feel yourself shiver when he kisses the inside of your thigh, reflexively pulling on his hair again and drawing a quiet chuckle from him. When you finally open your eyes and look down, you see he's already looking at you, a satisfied smile on his lips, and you can't help a breathy laugh as he untangles himself from you so that he can come and lay next to you, cradling your cheek and pulling your face to his for a long kiss. You turn to lay on your side, cradling the back of his head with one hand while the other moves down toward his belt again, lingering at the buckle for a few seconds before shifting lower and pressing your palm against him through his trousers. He's hard and hot and aching, and a low moan escapes him - yet he reaches down again, gently taking your hand in his, bringing it up to press it against his chest as he pulls away from you slightly.

"Wanted to remind myself that you’re mine," he says in answer to your silent question. He leans in again, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, and you smile against his mouth at his next words. "I ain’t never gonna forget again."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Day 649: still horny for Arthur Morgan. More at 10.


End file.
